


Power and Control

by Rovioletlily



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Disturbing Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Issues, Fear, Flashbacks, Identity Issues, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use, Ramsay is his own warning, Self-Esteem Issues, Verbal Abuse, Victim Blaming, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovioletlily/pseuds/Rovioletlily
Summary: With Ramsay, there is never a right response. Anything he says is never a correct choice. And no matter what game they play, Theon will never win.It doesn't matter; he never learns, and Ramsay will make sure he never will. It doesn't matter; anything he does to obey him will come back and hurt him in the end. It doesn't matter; Ramsay wants Theon to listen to him, but paradoxically, he also needs him to fail, to trip, to stumble. He wants him to be punished and to beg for forgiveness; he wants him to admit that his whole life is a mistake.Because, above all, Ramsay will never let him forget who is in control.Part One: Power and Control -CompletePart Two: The Devil Within - Ongoing





	1. ↳BROKEN BEGINNINGS↲

_PART ONE: POWER AND CONTROL_

**↳BROKEN BEGINNINGS↲**

"What did I tell you?"

He gulps in a shuddering breath, trying to force himself to get up, but the searing pain racing through his body is enough to leave him curled on the bed, twitching. Theon's eyes dart down before he looks away, trying not to look at his chest. He doesn't want to touch the brand that rests on his body, and so he hunches over even more, shaking. 

"I'm truly disappointed in you, you know."

Theon winces, feeling the words stab at him even harder than hot iron. He wants to beg for his forgiveness and cry that he never meant to offer Jeyne help. He wants to protest that he only wanted to give her a ride, that he only wanted to drive her home. But those words have already been torn out of Theon, along with his screams, when Ramsay pushed that burning metal harder on his chest. He trembles, wishing above everything that his punishment will come to an end. 

"I'll have to take away your car keys, Theon, for at least two months. And I don't think I should be letting you out of the house anymore."

At this, a sob rips its way out of his throat, and he tries vainly to sit up from the bed. He only just got back those keys four days ago. If Ramsay threatens to take away his phone, he's done for.  _Tell me what to do,_ he silently begs.  _Tell me how I can make this right._ But Ramsay will never tell him anything except those chiding remarks. It's up to him to fix his mistakes. Of course he shouldn't have laughed when he talked to Jeyne - of course Ramsay was angry at the sight of them. He's nothing more than a cheating whore, and even if he didn't intend on doing anything with Jeyne, he probably would have ended up sleeping with her if he spent a single minute more in her presence. Theon pushes himself up with shaking limbs, and meets Ramsay's ice cold eyes with his own, trying to communicate to him that he knows what he's done wrong.  _Thank you for saving me from myself, thank you for stopping me from ruining our relationship. Thank you, thank you._

"I just have to wonder... why? What did you see in that skinny, useless girl to convince you to run away from me?"

To his horror, he sees Ramsay shaking his head, and Theon desperately mirrors him.  _That's not what I wanted to do at all, it was nothing, nothing, I swear!_ He wants to hit his past self, the old Theon who rode on buses and hitchhiked for seven hours straight before Ramsay found him all the way in Highgarden.  _I would never do something like that, I wouldn't dare, no, no, no._ Theon wishes for the hundredth time that he never found the nerve to call Robb that windy day and ask to move in with him, to get away from Ramsay.  _Please, please, please..._

"I thought we were happy together. You begged me to save you, with those fragile eyes and meek words. You practically handed everything over to me, pleading for me to take  _Sea Bitch_."

Theon flinches, not just because those words sting, but because they're true. By the time he started trying to sell his ship, he knew that there was no point in trying to pursue a job at sea. By that time, he'd lost his only other job, a cashier at a pharmacy, because Ramsay's visits distracted him - and he only has himself to blame for being weak, so weak that he can't even endure Ramsay's teasing punishments. 

"Get off my bed," snarls Ramsay suddenly, striding forwards. "You  _reek_ of that girl's perfume."

Theon scrambles to get off, and in his haste, he tumbles off of the bed before Ramsay's feet. He's too frightened to rise, and his chest continues to throb with pain. He stares down, feeling Ramsay's glare pin him to the ground. "Please," Theon rasps, his voice hoarse. He doesn't have the energy to speak louder than a whisper, and his throat aches from screaming. "I was wrong, I shouldn't have talked to - "

"Damn right," Ramsay cuts in, his voice razor sharp. He kneels in front of Theon, who averts his eyes.  _Don't look at him directly, he won't like that, don't let -_

"Look at me, Theon, you bloody coward."

He does, rising slowly to lean against the frame of the bed, after quivering and shaking for another minute. _It's strange_ , Theon thinks, gazing into the gray eyes as cold as snow. He could have sworn that he saw Ramsay smile just a second ago. A laugh bubbles out of him as he thinks, hysterically, _don't call him that, he doesn't like that, it's not Snow, it's Bolton_ \- and then Ramsay truly smiles at him, his lips curling, right before he grabs Theon's jaw and hisses at him, "Never forget who you belong to, you faithless slut."

He can't even move. He doesn't even register Ramsay's mocking sigh as he repeats the words that he says so many times. It doesn't matter; he never learns, and Ramsay will make sure he never will. It doesn't matter; anything he does to obey him will come back and hurt him in the end. It doesn't matter; Ramsay wants Theon to listen to him, but paradoxically, he also needs him to fail, to trip, to stumble. He wants him to be punished and to beg for forgiveness; he wants him to admit that his whole life is a mistake. Because, above all, Ramsay will never let him forget who is in control.

It isn't long before Ramsay's expression softens, and he lets go of Theon's jaw. He traces a gentle finger on his chest, touching the brand softly. Despite his care, it burns at his touch, and Theon tries not to wince. "On the bed," says Ramsay quietly, and when Theon remains slumped over, he adds, "Or would you prefer me to take you on the ground?"

At that, he frantically shakes his head and scrambles back up. He can still remember that day when Ramsay pinned him down on the carpet, seething, after reading a careless text he sent to Robb:  _Had a great time last night, can't wait to see you again._ His body ached for days. Theon slides out of his bloodied shorts and eases himself onto the blankets, trying to put Robb's face out of his mind. He doesn't understand why Robb always invades his thoughts when he's at his lowest points.

"That's a good boy," murmurs Ramsay. Theon obediently begins to roll over, but Ramsay stops him. "I want you to look at me in the eye." His voice is quiet. "I want you to look at me and realize that no one will  _ever_ have you the way I do. I want you to look at me and realize that Jeyne would leave you the moment she finishes fucking you, and that she wouldn't even care." He pulls off his jeans and continues as Theon blinks his shame away. "And I want you to remember that you belong - and have always belonged - to me."

His eyes flash as he leans over Theon, staring down at the bloodied letter on his chest.  _R._ "You belong to me," Ramsay repeats, his harsh voice softening slightly. 

"I love you," Theon says, his voice breaking as Ramsay enters him.

Ramsay digs his nails into his hips, the pain washing away any thoughts Theon has. "I know."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not quite sure where to take this story, so for now I'm just going to write whatever's coming to my mind. :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! It really would make my day if you take, I don't know, two seconds to drop a 'kudos,' just to indicate you appreciate the 2+ hours I spent writing two chapters. XD


	2. ↳INNOCENT PRELUDE↲

**↳INNOCENT PRELUDE↲**

He doesn't sleep.

For hours, he lies there, listening to Ramsay's steady breathing, sensing the rise and fall of his chest. The pain pulsing through his body has faded to a steady throbbing, and he can almost ignore the additional scar that Ramsay's gifted to him. _It's like a tattoo,_ Ramsay said the first time he etched an 'X' onto Theon's hip. _Only more permanent - and you get it for free._

He's ashamed, because he can't ignore his longing to get out of the stifling house. It can't be that early; it's probably only four o'clock, but he can't sleep. It doesn't even matter sometimes, because when Ramsay feels like playing a game, he might as well be awake anyway. He remembers the time he woke up, his vision painfully obscured by a dusty blindfold and his mouth stuffed with a ball of cloth. Later, Ramsay explained to him that he'd called him three times to wake up, but he never did. _Exceedingly lazy, but we'll see if we can't get that out of you,_ he said, right before his friends slammed their fists into his stomach.

When he finally musters the courage to slide out of the bed in search for his phone, he clutches a hand to his chest. The hot skin stretches and makes him double over in pain, and he coughs as quietly as he can. Miraculously, Ramsay doesn't wake up.  _I'm just going to find my phone,_ he tells himself.  _I'll just text Jeyne to apologize.. apologize for leaving her stranded in the forest._

Guilt slides over him in a thick wave as he remembers how Ramsay forced himself into the car, pushing him to the passenger seat. At first, Theon laughed nervously, and Jeyne smiled, unsure, but the light mood quickly faded away to something darker. He steps out of the room as he thinks of how Ramsay muttered incoherent sentences under his breath, one of the first signs of anger. Even when the scenery around them changed slowly, Jeyne didn't quite comprehend how fragile the situation was. At last, when Theon tried for the fourth time to get Ramsay to turn the car around, Jeyne attempted to unlock the door. Instead of listening, Ramsay drove the car faster. 

The three of them sat there in tense silence; Theon didn't dare turn around and look at Jeyne. When Ramsay finally pulled the car to the stop, he hissed, "Get out." As Theon slips out of the room, he thinks of the way Jeyne sat there incredulously, before Ramsay roared at her, "Get  _out!_ " At that point, he tried to turn around and offer her an apologetic look, but Ramsay snapped, "Don't you dare look at her."

Maybe it was the way Ramsay gripped the steering wheel, shooting daggers into the mirror at Jeyne. Or maybe it was the unhinged way he sneered at her, saying, "You wanted a ride, didn't you?  _Didn't you_? So  _get out_." Whatever the reason, it didn't take long before she cautiously stepped out of the car, staring at Theon all the while. 

Right before she closed the door, Theon blurted out, "Ramsay, please, I didn't mean - "

Ramsay's hand shot out and gripped Theon's arm, as tight as a vice. "I'm _dealing with you later,_ so shut the _fuck up._ " Theon didn't even struggle against him. Instead, he widened his eyes at Jeyne, who got the message and quickly closed the door. Ramsay barely waited before he drove out of there, nearly careening into another car as they went back onto the road. 

Theon swallows as he cranes his head, wondering if his phone is in the bathroom. He honestly can't remember where he left it. He wracks his memory, but all he remembers is Ramsay's scarlet face, and the way he shoved Theon into the house before storming down to the basement. The whole time, he simply sat there, before he rose numbly and followed Ramsay upstairs. 

He makes his way downstairs, an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach. He feels sick and nervous, all at once, and the twisting of his chest leaves him leaning against the railing, nausea rising up inside of him. There's a thundering in his ears as he recalls his boyfriend's soothing touch after he branded Theon with the iron. _You deserve this, you know you do,_ Ramsay cooed, running a hand down Theon's arm.  _I'm helping you, pet, don't you see, don't you realize?_

_I'm saving you from yourself._

Then Ramsay clears his throat behind him, and Theon jerks upright, clutching the railing to prevent himself from tumbling down the stairs. Ramsay meets his gaze with a smirk, his black hair ruffled and messy, completely naked. "What're you doing up at this hour?"

Theon is horrified. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I - uh - I just wanted to get some water," he stutters, the words stumbling over themselves. "I'm so sorry, Ramsay, it's all my fault - "

But his boyfriend's smirk is relaxed, and he strides smoothly down to meet Theon in the middle of the staircase. "Of course it's your fault, but I don't blame you," he says. "You know I sleep best besides you."

For a split second, bitterness rises up inside of Theon. How many sleepless nights has he gone through to satisfy Ramsay's curiosity? But he pushes that thought away as Ramsay leans down towards him, his eyes hungry. "Why don't we have some breakfast, and then we can go walk around outside?"

Joy floods through him at those words. Maybe Ramsay has forgotten his threats from last night; maybe Ramsay has forgiven him. "Yeah, okay," he mumbles as Ramsay lightly pushes him away. He stumbles backwards for a moment before he regains his balance and walks quickly downstairs. 

As Theon cooks, the smell of bacon floats through the air, causing his stomach to grumble hungrily. But he doesn't move, even when Ramsay wraps his arms around him, pressing himself against Theon. _He still hasn't put any clothes on,_ Theon thinks wryly, but it's not like he'll listen if Theon tells him to. As he's flipping the bacon over, Ramsay's hands find their way down, until he's gripping Theon's sides and pressing closer against him. "I need to finish this," he protests, but Ramsay drags him from the stove and pushes him against the countertop, the edges digging into his stomach - right below his newly acquired brand.

"We'd better make this fast, then," Ramsay murmurs, his lips right next to Theon's ear. And then he's biting down on his neck, pressing him roughly against the countertop when Theon tries to twist away. He comes face to face with the cabinets, his face inches away from the rack of knives. A burning smell gradually fills the air, but Ramsay ignores it, his teeth digging in further. Theon's eyes water despite himself, even though Ramsay does this all the time. 

"No, really, the bacon's b - "

"You'll have to fix that later," Ramsay snaps, and he practically rips Theon's boxers down and thrusts into him without warning, letting loose a soft moan as he holds Theon tighter. Despite how rough he is, Theon can't help himself - he makes a sound that Ramsay interprets as pleasure. "That's right, you love this, don't you?" he pants. "My dirty little whore." Theon can sense Ramsay's sharp grin as he digs his nails deeply into the small of his back, no doubt leaving fresh bruises for tomorrow. 

Now the bacon's sizzling ominously, and Theon can swear that smoke is filling the kitchen. His hands clench and unclench desperately as Ramsay fucks him faster, relentlessly. "Ramsay - " he blurts out, as he sinks his teeth onto his shoulder this time. " _Ramsay_ \- " 

"Will you never shut up, pet?" Ramsay pants, his voice breathless. He snaps his hips sharply, and Theon groans, for a second forgetting who he is, what he's doing there - he even forgets his own name. He staggers, and then he's slumped almost completely on the countertop, sweat beading his forehead. Before he can even register it, Ramsay's murmuring disjointed, incomprehensible words into his ear, though his meaning is clear enough, and he grips Theon all the tighter as he comes, one sentence finally forming together: "You're mine, Theon, you're  _fucking mine - "_

Then he's pulling out, and Theon's slumped against the countertop, his legs numb, and every part of him aches. He's already moving away as Theon struggles to pick his thoughts together, dazed like he almost always is after this happens. "Clean up," Ramsay orders. "And the moment you do, get rid of that bacon and cook us some more. It reeks."

 

* * *

 

Theon tries not to hunch over too much as he grips the heavy grocery bags, his head pounding. Inexplicably, Ramsay decided it would be a good idea to drive to a grocery store fifteen minutes away and have Theon walk back - a distance that'll take almost an hour - as Ramsay drives to the mall and gets some ice cream. "I'm sure I'll find you somewhere on the sidewalk," he grinned, already pulling out of the parking lot as Theon stood there, gaping at him. "Don't stop walking. You'll be sorry if you do," he added, waving carelessly as he drove away. 

Ramsay did that once before, when he said it'd be good exercise if Theon walked to his friend's house to pick up some supplies for painting the house. He only paused twice, once to talk to Sansa, and the other to rest his arms, but when he came home, Ramsay was seething. He has the urge to throw his phone out of his pocket and get rid of whatever tracking app Ramsay put on there, but he doesn't. 

"Theon? Hey, Theon!"

He turns his head to see Arya biking behind him, her dark hair pushed up in a neat bun. "Did your car break down or something?" she teases, slowing down to bike besides him. He tries to walk a little faster. 

"Ah, no, just thought it'd be a nice day to walk around," he says lamely, trying to shift some weight from his left arm to his right. 

"You do know that Sansa's furious with you?" Arya adds as they turn a corner, her tone shifting from annoyed to guarded. "I don't know the exact details, but she said you left Jeyne Poole in Winterfell's forest the other day. How surprised do you think I was? I mean, everyone knows that you're  _such_ an honest, dependable guy."

Theon almost comes to a complete stop as he sees the cars streaming past him, and he shuffles nervously back and forth on the sidewalk as the cars roll by, wondering when there'll be a red light for the other lane. Arya looks at him curiously. She's at least six years younger than him, and yet she somehow manages to sound even more sarcastic than him sometimes. It still hurts, though, even though she's joking.

"I really am sorry for that," says Theon apologetically, but the effect is ruined when the street's light turns red and he instantly runs forward, trying to get past the traffic. Arya calls after him, pedaling faster to catch up with him. "Uh, sorry, I don't want to stop."

There's a persistent burning in his arms now, and he wishes that Ramsay didn't buy so many vegetables. If the bags tear while he's this far away, he doesn't know what he'll do. "Hey, let me help you with that," Arya sighs as she looks over him. "But really, what's gotten into you? Why would you drive Jeyne all the way to - "

Theon feels his heart drop as he sees a red car on his right. "Stop," he blurts out, and when Arya slows down, he runs past her, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. 

" _Idiot!"_ she calls in frustration. Theon cranes his neck and realizes that the windows aren't tinted.  _It's not Ramsay's_ , he thinks in relief, and then feels annoyed at himself for being relieved. It's not that he's afraid of Ramsay. _There's nothing_ _to_ _be afraid of,_ he tells himself. Ramsay never gets frightening except for when he's angry, and he's only angry when Theon forces him to be. It's always his fault Ramsay's forced to punish him, to remind him of the rules in their relationship. 

"Sorry," he repeats again, rolling back his shoulders in an effort to ignore the dead weights that he's holding. 

"I give up," says Arya, and she begins biking faster. For a moment, as he gazes after her; memories of those days spent with Jon teaching Arya how to fish blur through his mind. _Stick them with the pointy end,_ Jon told her, and whenever she failed to catch the fish, Theon would add,  _But you have to know the right place. The water bends the light, so you have to move your stick to fit the location, see?_

"I guess it was nice talking to you, Theon. Just... text Jeyne or something, because whatever joke you had, it really wasn't funny." Her voice is resigned, the tone familiar to him. After all, that's what everyone sounds like to him more and more these days. Even Robb adopts that tone when his offers to help Theon find a job are met with refusal.  _Everyone but Ramsay._

By the time he thinks of a reply, she's already gone.

* * *

 

Theon drops to his knees by the time he staggers home. He swears that he saw Ramsay's car drive past him, but when he tried to wave a hand and call out, he almost tripped from the groceries. He stumbled past it on the driveway, so Ramsay must be home. He drops the groceries on the ground and raises his head tiredly as he jams his hand onto the doorbell, hearing it ring on and on in the house. After about a minute, Ramsay opens the door, a scowl appearing almost instantly on his face. 

"What the hell, there's dirt all over the bags," he points out. "How do you manage to taint everything around you?"

Theon looks down in a daze. He doesn't even know how they got so dirty, he never stopped once. "I give you one job and you screw it up," Ramsay mutters in disgust, bending down to pick the groceries up. Theon stares at him incredulously as he strides back into the house, unable to believe what he's hearing. "Bringing the groceries home doesn't mean you should make a mess of them while you do it."

"You're fucking ridiculous, Ramsay," he says, following him into the kitchen. "You could have just driven me home!"

Theon regrets the words as soon as he says them, but it's already too late. 

Ramsay turns around slowly, his dark eyes glittering. "Are you arguing with me?" he demands. Theon tries to apologize, but Ramsay cuts him off, stalking towards him. "I bought these groceries. Damn you, I buy  _everything!_ I bought the car. I bought this house. I bought your  _clothes_. I own it  _all_ , so I can do whatever the hell I want with it. I  _own you,_ Theon," he snarls, "and you know it's true."

His heart pounds in his ears as he straightens. Every part of him is screaming for him to apologize and say sorry. But those words have set him off. His new brand hurts, and damn it, his ass hurts from Ramsay fucking him. His arms ache, and his legs burn from running back and forth whenever he waited at stop lights, hoping it wouldn't alert the tracker. "So what, you've paid the rent for a few months, it doesn't give you the right to act like you're always in charge of everything."

 _Shut up, shut up, apologize_ right now _, stop it Theon, stop it -_

"And if I'm such a nuisance, why don't you just let me apply for a job again? No - don't say that I won't be hired anywhere, you know Asha's fine with taking me on at her company. If I take up so much of your money and time, I might as well just move out and live with Robb, until I can get my own apartment - "

Before he's even done saying Robb's name, Ramsay's face darkens, and Theon barely manages to finish his sentence before Ramsay's fist collides with his face. 

He stumbles, almost falling over before he straightens. But Ramsay waits for scarcely a second before he slaps him, the sound ringing in the air. Theon tastes blood, metallic and tangy at the tip of his tongue, and he swallows, resisting the urge to spit it out. Last time he did something like that, Ramsay made him scrub the floor for hours. He steps away, uncomfortably aware of the way that Ramsay's eyes gleam. 

 _You're sorry, you're sorry, say sorry_ _NOW, don't do this, don't -_

"What, got a problem with that?" Theon taunts, wiping his bloody lips with the back of his hand. "I don't think you're fucking understanding that he and I are friends, we've been friends for  _years,_ and you can't fucking change that - "

_Shut up, shut up, shut UP, you idiot -_

Ramsay laughs hollowly, cutting through his thoughts. "Friends? Don't joke around. I don't know many times I have to drill it through your head, the Starks don't care about you, they never did. They took you in because you practically begged them." He leans against the doorway, a smirk rising up. "They kicked you out the moment you turned eighteen, don't you remember? I do. It's the day I first met you."

Theon tastes blood in his mouth again, but this time it's because he's bitten on his cheek roughly. All he can think of is Catelyn's stony face and Ned's gruff expression as Robb handed him a suitcase, their eyes fixed firmly on his shoes.  _They took me in because my mother begged them to, and the moment they could, they -_

"Okay, okay," he exhales, raising his hands in a silent surrender. "I got it. Let's just.. let's just talk about something else, okay? I'm sorry. Next time I'll go straight home, and they won't have a speck of dust."

Ramsay laughs, and the sound shatters the tension. Theon's thoughts have already drifted to what they'll eat for dinner when Ramsay laughs again - but this time, there's no amusement, and it's a brittle, forced chuckle. "I don't know if you're really this dense or you're just faking it," his boyfriend says finally, his lips stretched in a mockery of a smile. "Sometimes it's hard to tell with you, Theon." Annoyance bleeds through his light tone, and then his gray eyes darken, and Theon knows he isn't going to be getting any dinner any time soon.

"Give me your phone. We're going out for a drive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's hoping I won't suddenly get writer's block! Y_Y There are way too many times when I look at the time and realize I've read a fanfic for 30+ minutes when I should have been writing.. or homework.. but who needs homework? XD
> 
> Thank you to those who left comments, you really made my day! <3


	3. ↳SHATTERED MEMORIES↲

**↳SHATTERED MEMORIES↲**

When Ramsay stops at the side of the bridge, Theon thinks he might throw up. 

He hasn't been here since that day Ramsay found him, smoking a cigarette defiantly and throwing out old pictures of his family.  _Five hundred and twenty-one days,_ he thinks automatically, not that he's been keeping track. Who is he kidding - of course he's counted. He's counted every single day, even the ones spent in Ramsay's pitch black basement.

"Why - why are we here?" Despite himself, his voice shakes slightly, and not just because of the cold. The temperature's dropped, enough that he's shivered more than once in the car. No - it's because there's also a part of him that is terrified of what Ramsay is planning to do. Even though he knows that's stupid, and Ramsay would never do something that would actually hurt him. He shifts slightly as his shirt rubs against the r-shaped brand. 

Silence. 

Now Theon feels himself tensing up instinctively, waiting for Ramsay to shatter. The whole time he’s ominously silent, Theon knows he’s furious inside, holding back his anger. Listing everything that Theon has done wrong this time. He doesn’t know what will set him off - a wrong word, a misread expression - so instead, he just waits.

And waits. 

The thing that frustrates him the most about the situation is that he can't even apologize. Ramsay won't listen, and if he didn't listen the whole time when they drove to the bridge, then he won't listen now. His boyfriend has never learned the meaning of 'forgive and forget.' No. He has to hammer out every grievance, spell out every problem - often on Theon's body - until he thinks Theon has gotten the message.  _I have, I have,_ he wants to say, pulling Ramsay's arm and getting him to face him.  _Please. Let's go home, and I'll make dinner for us. Please._

And waits. 

Theon almost has the urge to bite his nails, but he doesn't. He made the mistake of constantly biting them around Ramsay, until he lost patience with Theon one hot day and, with the help of Damon, pinned him to the ground and slowly ripped the nail of his little finger off.  _It would have been your index finger, too, but you cried so pitifully, I decided not to,_ Ramsay told him afterwards, rocking him soothingly on his lap.  _And also, Damon was amused by the little show you gave us._ By show, he meant Theon's spasms and involuntary jerks as Ramsay pried the nail off. 

And waits.

Instead of apologizing again, he presses his hands onto his lap, curling and uncurling his fingers. Theon waits, and just as he's about to finally ask Ramsay again what they're doing there, Ramsay turns to him. Instead of the simmering anger he's expecting, there's a broad smile greeting him. He blinks, surprised, just as Ramsay says, his voice light and carefree, "I thought it'd be a good idea to remember where we started. Don't you?"

_Oh._

His face is relaxed, open, and Theon finds himself slowly losing his own stress. "I - " he begins, but Ramsay cuts him off immediately, turning away from him to look out the window. 

"I found you right there," he points out, and Theon squints to see where. "You had on those ragged pants and that dirty white shirt." He shifts uncomfortably, wondering if Ramsay plans to list out every detail. "I stopped, not because of that, but because you were smoking one of those damned cigarettes." Ramsay turns back to him, a strange smile caressing his face. "I didn't notice your face until I paused. Perhaps I should be grateful you tried to get so high."

Theon can still feel the hollowness of his stomach that was ever present during the time when Ramsay decided to cure him of his addiction. Every time he crept outside to take a quick smoke, Ramsay would always find out eventually - even if Theon immediately changed his clothes and took a shower. Somehow he did. And when he caught Theon, he didn't even say anything. Instead, he just locked Theon in the basement, letting him go days without food except for water, sometimes dragging it into weeks. 

The first time Ramsay did that, Theon was furious. He battered at the door with his fists for an hour, despite knowing that it was reinforced with steel. He kicked at it until his toes were just as bloody as his hands. At one point, he got so desperate that he tried to open the tiny window in the room with the generator. He even refused to handcuff himself to the wooden bed in the corner whenever Ramsay came in with a fresh glass of water.

Theon tried so many times to get past him and back into the house, but he never hit Ramsay. He  _couldn't_ hit him, he couldn't hit the one person in his life who cared for him, the one person who'd taken him in when no one else would, the one person who had seen that he'd been feeling at his lowest point. Even though he sometimes despised the way Ramsay treated him, a part of him drank it in, knowing that someone finally wanted to spend real time helping him, changing him, transforming him into a better person. 

At last, two weeks and three days later, Ramsay opened the door, not only with a whole  _pitcher_ of water, but with two sandwiches as well, Theon didn't bother holding back his tears of relief as he was fed, propped against the bed. By then, he grew used to sleeping sitting up, voluntarily cuffing himself to the frame of the bed at least two hours before Ramsay came in. He strained against the handcuffs as best as he could, leaning forward into Ramsay's warm embraces without hesitating. 

None of his subsequent visits were as long as his first. And it only took him six more times in the basement before he stopped smoking entirely. 

"I looked at you and I didn't see the cocky way you leaned against the bridge, smirking at any girl who passed by. No," he laughs. "I looked at you and I saw your desperate stare, that sad, pitiful way your eyes lingered on any girl who spared you a glance. I looked at you and saw the way your hands shook when you lifted your cigarette."

Theon hates those words, because they're true. He didn't know it at the time, but now he sees so clearly. Ramsay's descriptions only make him hunch over more. "Why are we here?" he asks again, but Ramsay ignores him. He's got himself set on retelling his story - "their story" - and not even Theon's stare will stop him. 

"I stopped you, I stood by your side.  _Those things will kill you,_ that's what I said. And you looked at me, and you said - "

"A quick death is all I would need."

Theon forces the words out of his mouth, if only so Ramsay will hurry up and finish this. He still doesn't know why he told that to Ramsay that day. Maybe it was because he was exhausted; he'd only just left Kyra's home after she accused him angrily of living off of her back. Maybe it was because he'd stopped caring at this point. 

Ramsay's eyes gleam. "A quick death was all you wanted. A quick death is what any unloved, unwanted boy would long for. That's what you were, weren't you?" His voice is thick with satisfaction, smooth like butter, but still, they feel like daggers hitting Theon's body. He exhales as quickly as he can, finally catching on to why Ramsay brought him there. Another game, another way to show him what he's forgotten. Even as he braces himself, he feels every muscle in his body tightening, knowing the ax is about to fall. "Unloved, unwanted," he repeats, his mouth pursing ever so slightly. "That's what you were. That's all you _ever_ were.  _Weren't you_?"

Theon nods quickly as Ramsay tilts his head at him. "You know that? Do you _truly_?" 

"Ramsay - " he says, his voice hoarse. 

"Then tell me, pet... if you knew it then, why don't you realize it now? Don't you remember that your  _Robb_ left you in the cold?  _I_ remember - you told me everything when you curled up in that sleeping bag, half drunk." Theon remembers. He  _was_ drunk, drunk off of stolen wine from the Starks, but more than that - he was desperate for attention, desperate for someone to listen. 

"Yes. I remember." Theon's words are clipped. He truly has no desire to relive the past.

"No you don't," Ramsay snaps, "or you wouldn't have tried playing your little games with me. Do you think I care if you move in with Robb? Do you think I care if you haul your useless self out of my house? Do you?" His words bite at Theon, but his smile is still in place, and he grins savagely. "I don't give a _fuck_. But I _do_ care when you pathetically claim that Robb would take you in. I don't like liars, Theon, and you know what I do to people who lie to me.  _He thinks me as nothing more than baggage, extra insurance for the Greyjoys,_ " he mimics. "How could I ever believe you when you don't even believe it yourself?" 

To his horror, he feels a tightness at his throat. If he cries now, when Ramsay isn't even doing anything to him, it'll be proof. A weakness to point out and hold against him later. If he isn't tied to the whipping post, or branded, or even locked in the basement... Theon tries to swallow, but his throat is agonizingly dry, and he ends up hunching over and coughing. 

"Remember, pet," Ramsay breathes, turning the key and starting up the car again, as Theon shudders and stares at the ground, avoiding looking out of the window. "You would still be unloved, unwanted, but for me. I brought you back. I _gave you my love._  Don't  _ever_ forget that." He lets out a short, barking laugh. "You may have tried to fuck him once, and he may have kissed you back, _once_ , but if you ever thought you and Robb would have a happy ending... you really weren't paying attention."

* * *

 

Ramsay slams the door shut when Theon darts into the house after him. Then, with a smothering joy, he tosses an envelope that's already been opened and resealed at Theon. "I wasn't going to tell you about this, I was going to let you find out yourself, but now I think it'll serve as the perfect reminder for you. Read behind the lines, Theon, and  _know your place_."

Theon waits until Ramsay leaves to walk through the yard and feed the dogs. He grips the letter with clammy hands, and shuts himself inside the bathroom before he finally opens it again. 

He stares, and stares, and stares. 

He only registers the first few words. Theon doesn't even bother finishing the letter. Instead, he clenches it in his fists, leaning numbly against the wall. He feels nothing, not even the throbbing of his brand, and for once in his life, he wishes there is a pain that is stronger than the one coursing through his blood. For once in his life, he wishes for Ramsay, for Ramsay to fuck him into the ground and take away any thoughts he has. He covers his face with his hands, struggling to muffle a strangled yell. And finally - at last, hot tears seep slowly out of his eyes and drip on the letter, blurring the elegant words. 

 _Together with their families,_ _ROBB STARK and JEYNE WESTERLING request the pleasure of your company at their wedding celebration. SUNDAY, JULY 8TH..._

There is a dull roar in his ears, drowning out any noises around him. Tears fall ceaselessly down onto the cold marble floor as he struggles to regain his composure. There is nothing; he can't even hear his own choked breathing. His hands cover his eyes as he tries to erase those words from his mind and fails. He hunches over. There is only a painful roar, echoing in his mind, blocking out any sounds. 

But somewhere in the house, Ramsay is laughing. 

* * *

 

Later, he drags himself out of the bathroom, his hands clutching the crumpled invitation. Theon slouches over to the couch in the living room, seeing his phone. He looks over the missed calls and begins reading messages, seemingly detached from the entire process. It's only when he sees the short texts from Robb, sent over eighteen hours ago, that he feels his stomach clenching and his throat closing up. 

_Hey, haven't seen u in a while..._

_I got news for you, though - GUESS WHO JUST GOT ENGAGED??_ _?_

_YES, it's ME Theon, and even though Catelyn isn't exactly pleased, at least she's helping planning the wedding. That's I can ask for my mom, ig._

_Drinks at my place tmrw night??_

_She's so damn beautiful, you won't believe it. You've met her - Jeyne - haven't you?_

Theon remembers his careless words, and they come slowly back to him as if drifting up from the sea.  _I might as well just move out and live with Robb... might as well just move out and live with Robb... live with Robb..._

 _His new fiancée might not like that so much,_ he thinks, and breaks out in laughter, feverish, wild laughter. Ramsay's words run through his mind again.  _You may have tried to fuck him once, and he may have kissed you back,_  once _, but if you ever thought you and Robb would have a happy ending... you really weren't paying attention._

He didn't even tell Ramsay the full truth. On Theon's nineteenth birthday, Robb was almost completely drunk, and nearly insensible. He didn't even react when Theon tentatively pressed his lips against his, besides offering a dazed smile. And when Theon tried to coax him into undressing, Robb somehow was sober enough to say no. The relief he felt when Robb woke up the next morning, remembering nothing, was overwhelming.  _I always knew he and I would never end up together, Ramsay,_ he thinks, another hysterical laugh rising up inside of him.  _I just didn't want to admit it._

Ramsay comes downstairs an hour later and sees him curled up on the couch. He pries the phone out of Theon's hands and reads the texts, amused. "What do you say to those drinks?" he asks thoughtfully, ignoring the way Theon shakes his head desperately. "Can't ever say no to some free wine, can we?"

"I just want to stay home, please," Theon says quietly, his gaze locked on his phone. 

"But isn't your  _home_ at Robb's place? That's exactly where we're going, Theon. Come on, get up and wash your face, and at least change your shirt. It's stained with tears."

"No, seriously, Ramsay, I don't feel like it, I want to stay here."

"You can stay here and I can give you sixty lashes for talking back," his boyfriend says, his voice suddenly saccharine sweet. "Or we can go to Stark's, and I'll fuck you without even tying you up."

Theon goes, of course, and Ramsay accompanies him. Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is finally moving towards some real plot! I definitely have a vague outline in my head now. :)
> 
> I'm actually probably going to avoid full flashbacks that are a full chapter long, so expect the chapter titles to be changed from just 'AFTER' to something different in the future. XD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I'd really appreciate it if you dropped a kudos or commented about what you liked/didn't like, because believe it or not, I desperately need some constructive criticism. (None of my friends read/watch Game of Thrones... how are they still living...)


	4. ↳HOLLOW CONTENTIONS↲

**↳HOLLOW CONTENTIONS↲**

He doesn't say a single thing, not until he comes face to face with Robb.  

The whole time, Ramsay's arm is on his shoulder, steering him through the packed house with little effort. He forces a smile at Sansa, who looks at him with barely concealed disgust. Eventually Sansa strikes up an easy conversation with Ramsay, completely unaware of the way Ramsay tightens his grip on Theon, who ends up tuning out the conversation. After Sansa comes Ned Stark, who surveys Theon with more than a little wariness. He doesn't say much to him either; instead, Ramsay talks on and on about how much progress Theon has made cutting back drinking and smoking, and how he's even searching for a job. Finally, Ned gingerly pats him on the shoulder and strolls away, evidently relieved Theon doesn't seem angry anymore about being kicked out of Winterfell. 

Then there's Kyra, and Ros, their hands laced together as they chat briefly with them. They're oblivious of the way Ramsay's eyes linger on them hungrily, choosing only to look at Theon with upturned noses and expressions of disdain. Then again, all he's ever been to them is a good fuck, and he doesn't feel too much of a sting when they walk away, ignoring him completely. "In the end - just another fuckboy," he hears Ros say, and he struggles not to react.

Theon spots Robb making his way over to him while Ramsay's engaged in a conversation with Arya, smiling and nodding politely at the shorter girl. In her presence, Ramsay has finally let go of Theon's arm, and he resists the urge to rub at the spot, knowing a bruise is likely on its way. When he realizes that Robb's weaving through the people around him and heading directly for him, he panics, turning away and searching wildly in the opposite direction. Ramsay notices, of course, he grabs Theon's hand when he makes for the bathroom. He doesn't even have to look to know Ramsay's glaring daggers at him, daring him to leave the room.  _You wanted him so bad, why don't you talk to him?_ His eyes are saying, pieces of flint.

He turns slowly as Robb draws to a stop, grinning somewhat awkwardly. "Theon! I haven't seen you for so long," his friend comments, leaning forwards for a hug. But Theon takes too long to respond, and when he awkwardly steps forward, Ramsay's nails still digging into his hand, Robb has lowered his arms. "Oh, hello, Ramsay."

"It's lovely to see you and your future wife," Ramsay replies, a bright, cheerful smile plastered onto his face. He digs his nails deeper into Theon's hand, so that he has no choice but to step closer to Ramsay. At that, his boyfriend lets go of his hand, but wraps his arm around Theon's waist almost immediately, tugging him closer as Robb looks on curiously. "Jeyne, is it?" For a moment, Theon expects Ramsay to start laughing, or at least smirk, because he knows both of them are remembering the car ride yesterday. As it is, his face remains completely neutral.

Robb looks to his left, a half smile rising to his face. "Yes, Jeyne Westerling," he agrees.

Theon feels as if he's going to be sick as Ramsay's hand rests on his hip, right over an x-shaped scar.  "I'm... I'm so happy for you, Robb." He forces the words out, trying for a smile of his own, but it ends up more like a grimace.

Ramsay feigns surprise. "God, he's been so loud the whole day, and now you have nothing to say?" His laugh bites deeply into Theon as Robb laughs along with him. "You're not very talkative, _love_ ," he teases, as Theon's face burns red hot. "And he was so happy for you in the bedroom. I mean, all he could talk about was Robb this, Robb that, while we were - "

Theon pulls away from him roughly, hating the way Robb's face turns from surprised to curious. "Just not feeling well," he mutters. He swallows, resisting the urge to tug at a stray thread on his shirt. "She seems really, nice, _really_. I hope you two will be... really, _really_ happy together."

Robb looks at him strangely as Ramsay chuckles again. "He's lost his tongue, the poor thing, let me help him find it." That's Ramsay's cue for them to leave; he doesn't resist as Ramsay drags him out of the room, heading straight for the kitchen. The whole time, Theon feels sweat sliding down his back as he forces down the only words he really wanted to say. 

He's only left alone when he makes his way to the bathroom upstairs, noting that the one downstairs is locked. Despite himself, despite everything, Theon still remembers where it is, and his eyes find the mark on the wall where he punched it that time when he came home half drunk. He almost topples in, grabbing the sink and staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks like a frightened rabbit.  _Stop shaking, you haven't even had one drink,_ he snaps at himself, and only after he splashes his face with water several times do his hands stop trembling. 

Theon finally feels like himself again when the door swings open, but when he glances to the left and sees Robb leaning against the wall, he feels something inside of him fracturing.

"I didn't know you and Ramsay were dating," his friend says lightly, pushing some of his red hair from his face. "I didn't even know you moved in with him."

"I - "

"We haven't really talked in months, Theon," Robb says, his voice lowering. "I wasn't even so sure you'd come tonight. You've barely been responding to any of my texts." Theon can't even think of anything to say as Robb steps closer, his eyes examining him sharply. "You look like you've barely been eating. You're as pale as a ghost, I swear. Look, Theon, if you ever need any help, my mom knows some really good people - "

"I'm not an addict anymore, Robb," Theon cuts in, and he hates that his voice shakes, making him even more unconvinced. He has a flash of inspiration, and he continues: "And, Ramsay, he's been helping me, he's really been a good friend - "

"Really?" Robb laughs, but it's forced. "I've seen people like him before. Do you really think a few easy smiles are enough to fool me? And now you're saying someone you didn't even know before let you live in his house. He's completely fine with it? And he doesn't want anything? Anything at all?"

Theon shakes his head. The questions coming from Robb are making him light-headed. "He's never asked," he says finally. "You... you don't know Ramsay like I do. He's not that type of person."  _He takes care of me, even though it doesn't seem like it sometimes._

Robb turns away from him, evidently annoyed. Theon trails after him, not knowing why he doesn't make up an excuse and rush back downstairs, as he walks into Theon's old bedroom, pushing the door open lightly. "Okay, let's not talk about that," Robb says finally, sitting down on the twin-sized bed and offering a smile up at him. "How... how's school? Last I heard, you were applying for that college down south - "

"I'm not finishing school, I'm... busy," Theon cuts in, and this time he sees the undeniable flash of... something... in Robb's eyes. He doesn't even understand why, but he pushes on, forcing an energetic smile. "You know, I'm not here for me, I'm here for you, and your... your fiancée. Let's talk about something else, okay, let's - "

"Shut up, Theon," Robb exhales, and his voice is so tired that Theon hesitates. "I haven't seen you in months,  _months,_ and you show up here on the arm of a random guy that look... that looks - "

"Looks like what?"

Neither of them are smiling anymore. Theon wishes desperately that he went to the bathroom downstairs after all. This isn't how he imagined how their conversation would go at all,  _why is he staring at me like that,_ and above all, he prays that Robb will stop bringing Ramsay into the conversation.

"Did you feel like you needed someone like Ramsay because my dad made you leave?" 

His voice is softer and causes Theon to flinch. He stands near the doorway, trying to force himself not to stare at his old bedroom. Everything is completely untouched, even the mahogany desk that has so many cluttered, useless objects on it. "I understood why I had to move out, it's not a big deal," he says, but even he can tell how false the words are. Neither of them are fooled, but Robb nods, making a show of it. 

 _Tell him the truth, Theon. Tell him how hurt you were,_ Ramsay's voice orders him, the familiar sardonic tone echoing through his mind. Damn it, now Ramsay's even showing up in his _head_. _That's what_ friends _do, don't they?_

"I'm sorry about that, okay? Just... I just want... I just want us to be friends again."

 _We_ are _friends, we've always been friends,_ he wants to say, but what comes out is, "I'm busy, do you not understand? Just because I'm kicked out of your house doesn't mean my life comes to a fucking stop, it goes on. Don't talk to me after all this fucking time and pretend that you actually - actually give a damn. We've both moved on, neither of us are even obliged to talk to each other, so don't go spouting that crap about friendship - are you even listening to me?"

 _But you_ love  _him,_ Ramsay tells him, in mock confusion.  _Don't you, Theon? Don't you_ love  _your little Robb?_ The last words are a snarl, sounding just like they did when Ramsay found him curled up with his phone, desperately trying to call Robb. He can't even wash Ramsay's words away when he's alone.

Robb's eyes are wet, but Theon isn't sure if those tears are just stemming from his imagination. "Okay, fine, we've both - gone our separate ways, whatever the hell you want to call it. But what's going on with you? You look like you've lost twenty pounds. You're not yourself, your eyes keep darting towards the door. For God's sake, just tell me. I'm worried about you, okay? Theon - "

"Don't tell me what I look like," Theon lashes out, and he feels his anger rising, and he still doesn't know why. "I don't need your opinion. I didn't even want to come here, I.. I only came for the free food, okay? I really didn't care about your engagement, and I don't care if we stop talking, I never even liked talking to you, I don't want - I  _don't want -_ "

"Theon - "

"I  _don't want you_!" he screams, and Robb flinches back as Theon realizes why he's breaking. The ring on Robb's finger flashes as he shifts on the bed, and Theon feels sick. Sick at the sight, and sick at himself for reacting this way. "I don't want your _friendship,_ I don't want you to pretend you care, that you want me here. I'm going home - "

 _Isn't this your home?_ Ramsay asks him, his voice settling inside of his head.  _Isn't that what you told me?_

"Theon? I never meant that - " Robb's voice rises above his, incredulous. " _Theon_ \- "

"Just get away from me, I'm not coming back here again. I was wrong, he was right - "

 _The smartest thing you said all day, pet,_ Ramsay points out smugly.

"Who's  _he_? Ramsay? Theon, what the hell are you saying?"

"Don't act like you care about me," he mutters, backing away. Ramsay's laugh rings inside of his head as he turns away. "Don't. I - I have to go."

"Theon!"

He turns and practically sprints out of the room. He prays that Robb will not follow, while a traitorous part of him wishes he will. But Robb stays there, and even after Theon peers up from the bottom of the stairs, he doesn't spot him coming out of the room. He stands there, feeling his heart rate slowing. As it does, horror fills him gradually, until he's paralyzed from what he's just done. 

Of course they haven't talked in months. While he's seen Arya, or Sansa, or even Bran occasionally, he hasn't tried to seek Robb out since last July. The last time he called Robb, leaving a voicemail begging him to let Theon move in with him, Ramsay found him and threw the phone into the sink. Then he announced that they were taking a vacation, and drove him all the way out to the Dreadfort forest. By the time Theon began to protest, they were already in front of the tiny lodge cabin, and when Ramsay left him there alone, telling him with a false smile that he was free to look all around, he was too unnerved to do anything but huddle in the corner of the cabin.

 _You're a fucking idiot, Theon,_ he thinks in disgust.  _What the fuck happened to you, to scream at Robb that you didn't_ want him _? What will he think of that? Are you trying to sound pathetic on purpose? Want him.. how stupid does that sound?_

How did he and Robb even end up there?

He's spared from his thoughts when he sees Ramsay coming towards him, his dark hair messy and a glass of water clutched in his grip. He sees a spark of interest in those gray eyes before Ramsay grabs his shaking hand. "There you are, pet, I was starting to miss you," he says, pressing the glass into Theon's other hand. To his relief, his hands slowly stop trembling as Ramsay holds him tighter. "Come on, now, what did I miss?"

He can't help himself; he twists his head up and sees Robb staring down at them from above, his hands laced together tightly. Ramsay follows his movement and lets out a soft, scornful laugh. "Did you have a lover's spat?" he asks. Theon chooses not to reply and instead lifts the glass of water to his lips. Ramsay scowls, his fingers clenching into the palm of his hand. " _Answer me_ when I talk to you."

"S-sorry," he replies automatically, swallowing the water much too quickly. "We... we just talked."

"Funny," Ramsay says quietly, steering him towards the door. He pushes it open without any bravado, and forces Theon out after him. They walk in silence as he shivers from the cold January air. He doesn't press closer to Ramsay, though. Theon wants nothing more than to soak in the heat radiating from him, but Ramsay stares straight ahead, obviously thinking something over.

"You don't look strong. You don't look like you can endure much of anything. But you surprise me, sometimes, pet. I didn't think you could handle my care, not at first," Ramsay confides as he pulls Theon towards his car. Ramsay's quiet, so calm that they could be talking about the weather. Only after Ramsay slides into the car does Theon open the passenger seat's door and follow him. "Even after I've taught you so many times, somehow you manage to get right back up, your empty brain forgetting whatever I tell you." An edge enters his tone, the one that always appears when Theon's done something wrong, and he sits up straighter, cautiously snapping in the seat belt. 

"Even at this rate, you've lasted," says Ramsay, his mouth twisting in either pleasure or disapproval. "Sometimes I wonder if it's because I've given you too much freedom. Maybe that time you spend outside has affected your head? Maybe I've been too kind. Maybe I ought to take a hammer to your legs and see what happens then."

Theon can still see the Stark home in the distance. They haven't been outside for two minutes, and Ramsay's already - 

"Maybe if you can't fucking walk, maybe if you needed me to carry you around, maybe if you had a _physical_ reminder, you wouldn't obsess over Robb Stark all the damn time."

Theon swallows, unsure if he's so serious that he'll actually carry out his threat. No, he isn't, he can't be. He's just angry, and Ramsay always gets over his anger, of course he does, of course he will this time.

"Don't just sit there, pet," he snaps, his gaze darting up to check behind them as he drives faster. "Say something."

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, but to his shame, all that comes out is a fearful whine from the back of his throat. He cringes, snapping his eyes shut, but Ramsay only laughs. 

"Don't tell me you're  _frightened_ ," says Ramsay, condescension dripping from his voice. "Is that it? I frighten you? While Robb, the perfect knight in  _shining_ armor is just what you need to save yourself from me - is that it? Would you prefer him over me? Would you like living in his house like a whore, letting him fuck you whenever you wanted and do whatever he wants?"

He can't move. "No," he rasps, but he can't look at him. Ramsay drives even faster. Theon waits for him to continue venting his anger at him, but when he remains ominously silent, he begins blurting out whatever he can think of. "He's just a friend. He's not even that important. Friends... friends come and go. They... they move on. But... you're not a friend. You're..." He can't finish, so he says, "Everything I am.. it's because of... it's because of you, Ramsay. Please -  _slow down,_ I... I'm yours. For... forever, Ramsay, please - it's just you. I didn't think anything of him before, I was just angry, but you reminded me, I remember. You've done everything for me, you've always been there for me. Please - I love you - "

"I'll be giving your phone to some charity," Ramsay says, completely ignoring what he's said. "And I want you to wait in the car while I'm going shopping." He laughs suddenly, his head thrown back, and Theon gapes at him, unsure of what's so funny. "No. I just remembered, I've seen this coming for a while. We're going home, and I'm giving you a little present."

* * *

Theon holds back a miserable laugh as he looks down at the black collar in his hands. "Well, go on, try it on," Ramsay encourages, his voice holding nothing but kindness. "Let's see how it looks on you."

He pushes away the horror he felt when Ramsay first handed it to him and concentrates on nothing but Ramsay's encouraging voice.  _This is a gift_ _,_ he remembers.  _It's not even going to hurt me. It's just a reminder. A reminder. A reminder of who I am, who I belong to. A reminder._

Another piece of him slides away as he slowly lets go of that Theon who dared laugh at Ramsay, who dared challenge him over  _groceries_. That Theon returns every so often, but he's coming less and less, and he's nothing but not relieved. In his mind's eye, he sees that Theon waving goodbye to him as he joins the Theon who tried to run, the Theon who tried to defend himself all the time. He doesn't miss him, and how could he? That Theon brings him nothing but misery, more arguments and more reminders. It's who's left that Ramsay cares for, and that's what matters.

Ramsay sits besides him and helps slide it on, pulling it tighter teasingly before Theon widens his eyes at the lack of air. But he doesn't struggle. He doesn't even move. He waits for Ramsay to loosen it, and he doesn't react when he does. 

"Better," his boyfriend says. Theon closes his eyes as Ramsay leans forward and presses a light kiss on his cheek, so soft that Theon feels tears rising. 

"Thank you."

"You never did get a proper drink, did you?"

Theon's eyes snap open. "Come on, let's go play a game."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could say Theon had a relapse before Ramsay pulled him back... Things will definitely be getting darker, Ramsay's been a little too gentle with him so far. XD 
> 
> Happy Memorial Day, everyone! <3


	5. ↳FAMILY DISCORD↲

**↳FAMILY DISCORD↲**

Theon lifts his head, urgency flooding through his veins at the sound of the lock turning. He lifts himself from his position in front of the television, but he doesn't try to touch the remote. It's not like he was watching a movie - for hours, he just stared at the blank screen. For the past two weeks, he's felt more and more lethargic, having nothing to do besides the chores whenever Ramsay's not home. Quickly, he rushes to the front door, stepping back just before the door slams open. 

Immediately, he takes in Ramsay's deep-set scowl, along with his thunderous expression. Theon can't help himself; he cringes away from him before straightening quickly, lunging forwards to grab the coat that Ramsay tosses at him. He grips the bulky jacket as Ramsay kicks off his shoes, the anger on his face showing no signs of abating. 

He doesn't ask what's wrong. Instead, he folds the coat carefully and hangs it up in the small closet in front of the house, before crouching down and grabbing the shoes, putting them neatly to the side. He looks up just in time to see Ramsay's foot aimed towards his chest, and he doesn't quite manage to dodge. Theon barely manages to catch himself as he sprawls on the ground, blinking slowly up at Ramsay. 

"Sorry," Theon breathes, pushing away the flash of hurt that he feels. It's natural, everyone gets angry sometimes, and even if Ramsay acts like this, he always makes it up to him. He ignores the fact that lately, those moments have been gradually shrinking away as Ramsay's impatience grows. He stands up slowly, and by the time he's back on his feet, Ramsay is already striding upstairs, storming towards their bedroom. 

He's uncertain, unsure if he should try to ask him what's wrong, but he also hasn't started making dinner yet. Theon checks the clock quickly, noting that his boyfriend is home at least forty minutes earlier than usual. He swallows and makes a split second decision to follow Ramsay, walking up the stairs as quietly as he can. Theon pulls at his collar slightly, taking in a deep breath before he walks forward.

The door is open - a good sign - and he cautiously steps in, making sure to keep his gaze pinned to the floor. "Ramsay?" he asks, wondering why he's propped up on the bed, typing furiously on his phone. "Are you... are you okay?"

"Mind your own fucking business for once, pet," says Ramsay, but his voice doesn't carry the usual edge. The venom on his face is directed to whoever he's texting, not Theon. He feels thrilled for a moment, then guilty - he's relieved that Ramsay's rage isn't directed at him for once, even though it's at the expense of the person he's texting with. Theon waits there in silence, knowing that he shouldn't leave until he's told he should. 

"It's... it's my father," he says finally, looking up. Theon nearly recoils from the look in his stony eyes; he hasn't seen that glare since he argued with him over Robb. He's not imagining it, though - the rigid stare is entirely real. 

"Your... your father?" 

Ramsay has never talked about his family. Other than a brief story explaining how his father and mother met -  _he was swept away by her beauty, and she was captivated by his charming manner_ \- and a brief mention of his stepbrother's death -  _indigestion from some cake or something_ \- he knows next to nothing about his side. Theon blinks at him as Ramsay snorts in disgust. 

"Forgot how slow you are. There are some things I literally have to spell out for you." He looks down at his phone, his scowl deepening. "He wants us - you and I - to have  _dinner_ with him."

Theon almost laughs incredulously.  _And it seemed like something horrible happened,_ he almost says, but he holds his tongue. He's gotten better at doing that lately. 

"He made me come over to his house earlier today," Ramsay continues, his hands clenching his phone tightly. "Paraded his stupid wife around me - my  _new stepmother_ \- who's fucking pregnant. And he wants us all to have dinner with him." He looks sideways at Theon, a half smile rising. "I got him to convince you to come, though." The smile turns into a leer as he uncrosses his legs and gets off the bed, assessing Theon. "They all think you're my girlfriend. It's not like he even asked your name. Whatever - I'll give him a fucking surprise if he wants it so much."

He laughs a short, ugly laugh, and Theon finds himself smiling hesitantly along with him. He has no idea what's going on; he doesn't even know what impression he's supposed to make. 

"Damn it, stop grinning idiotically and go find me a suit," he says brusquely. "And pick out a decent one for yourself while you're at it, pet." He stops him, cocking his head. "I suppose you should take off the collar. Just this one time, don't worry."

Theon slowly stops smiling and nods instead, backing out of the room. He waits for Ramsay to say something like,  _by the way, how was your day, Theon?_ or anything with his actual  _name_. He doesn't know if it's his imagination, but it seems like Ramsay has taken to referring him as pet more and more frequently, when he even bothers to acknowledge him. Ramsay returns to his fixed glare on his phone screen, so he takes that as his cue to step into the walk-in closet and search for a suit that he thinks will impress his father the most.

Ten minutes later, Theon shuffles around nervously at the doorway, unsure if he should step outside. As he stares at the door, he feels slightly more energized, and he shakes his lethargy away. All he’s been doing for the past few days is cleaning up the house and staring at the blank tv screen. He tried to watch a television show once, but when Ramsay came home and saw him, he yanked the remote away, chiding him. “Is your life really so terrible that you’d prefer some fake, made up fantasy version?” he asked, a dangerous edge to his playful tone. "That's the only reason I can imagine you're watching such trash."

Theon hears Ramsay coming up to him before he speaks. “Don’t you look fine,” he says, and his voice holds no bite. He’s so cheerful that Theon turns around, his own smile forming, before Ramsay grabs his throat and forces him against the wall. “I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed to go outside anymore,” he breathes, his eyes thin slits. “Are you forgetting what I've told - "

“I’m sorry,” Theon blurts out, interrupting him in his haste. The effect is ruined, though, by Ramsay’s grip on his throat. His voice comes out in a rasp as he tries to breathe. “I forgot. I forgot."

"You forgot?"

"I forgot," he splutters, feeling his face turn red as Ramsay wraps his fingers tighter.  _Stupid, stupid,_ he thinks in dismay. Ramsay's still upset over his father, that's obvious, he shouldn't have stood so boldly there. He feels his mistake cut into him like a knife. He's been doing so good for the past few days, he can't slip up now. "Please - "

"I hate the word please," Ramsay spits, and Theon tries to conceal his shock as Ramsay leans towards him, loosening his grip a fraction of an inch. _When did you get so tall?_ he wonders as he stares into those frigid gray eyes. Maybe it's him that's short, with the rate that he's shrinking down. "But we're running short on time, so I'll let you go this time. Don't think I've forgotten your insolence," he says, and finally pulls his hand away.

Theon leans against the wall, taking in short, stuttering breaths.  _How am I supposed to go to dinner with you if I can't even step outside?_ he wants to ask, but Ramsay's already turning away. "You'll go into the garage," he orders. "Get in the car and don't lift your head once." He touches Theon's cheek, his unsympathetic face softening slightly. "You need to make a good impression, so don't do anything I haven't told you not to do." Then he straightens Theon's tie and turns away. 

Theon waits, standing right next to the wall in the garage. He's uncomfortably aware of the fact that the suit is entirely too big for him. He doesn't know when he became so skinny, and when he climbs into the car shakily, bowing his head as Ramsay pulls out, he winces at the sight of his hands. They're a dull, pasty white in the sunlight, entirely too lifeless for his liking. He keeps his gaze fixed on his hands as Ramsay drives to his father's house, unsure of what to say. 

"Don't be stupid," Ramsay tells him decisively as they wait for a red light. "Try not to seem so ignorant." He waits silently as Theon thanks him for his advice. "You need to be respectful, but not so much that you seem like an insufferable suck-up." Again, he waits while Theon thanks him. When Ramsay turns his head to the left, Theon lifts his head quickly to stare straight ahead, squinting from the dazzling sunlight. When he sees a flash of black, he can't help himself - he looks to see a Toyota car right next to them, just like the one Robb owns. 

A blow to his head is enough to get him staring at his hands again. Ramsay doesn't say anything, but he can feel the disapproval radiating off of him.  _I'm sorry, sorry, I'm sorry,_ he says in his head, the familiar feeling of shame rising up in him.

He knows without thinking too much about it that a month ago, he wouldn't have cowered away from Ramsay if he ordered him not to look out of the windows. But a month ago, he didn't understand the rules, he couldn't have - Ramsay was so lenient with him. He closes his eyes, leaning back into the seat as pride slips in along with the shame. He  _learned_ , and he knows. 

 _You took longer than I would have thought, but you learned,_ Ramsay told him a few days ago, as he knelt on the ground. Ramsay took his time unzipping his jeans, before giving himself a few absent-minded strokes. Then, with a quick exhale of breath, he thrust into Theon's mouth, gripping him tightly by the hair to keep him in place. Theon's eyes watered almost immediately as he knelt there, struggling not to choke. He didn't know if Ramsay did it on purpose or not, but for a few minutes, as Theon gagged, Ramsay fucked him to the ground, refusing to pull out once. 

He tried to say something, but it came out as a strangled groan around his cock, and Ramsay took that for an invitation to thrust all the way down his throat. It wasn't his first time, but they'd only done it a few times the past year. Ramsay had assured him that they didn't have to do anything that made him feel uncomfortable, but after the incident with Robb, something snapped in him. After that, there was no pretense of boundaries. No - there were rules, and Theon had to follow them. 

Theon choked as Ramsay came, scrambling backwards as his grip on his hair loosened. But Ramsay pulled him back, and with an extreme, absurd amount of effort, Theon managed to swallow, feeling as if he'd never eat again.  _You learned,_ he repeated, ruffling Theon's hair.  _And that's what matters, pet._

Ramsay slams on the brakes suddenly, and Theon is thrown forwards before he manages to find his balance.  _"Fuck you, bitch,_ " he calls, rolling down the window, and Theon nearly lifts his head before he remembers not to. Instead, he looks at Ramsay hesitantly, who throws him an amused look. "It was the younger one," he informs him. "Arry, something or other."

Theon makes a noncommittal noise. He tries not to think of the Starks too much. He can only imagine the text messages Robb left on his phone, or the times Arya biked past Ramsay's house, wondering where he was. So instead of letting himself feel curious, he goes back to staring down at his hands. 

"Alright, we're here," he announces loudly two minutes later, regaining some joviality. "Come on, pet, he's waiting for us. Hurry  _up_ , are you trying to make us late on purpose?"

Theon scrambles out of the car, his fingers fumbling nervously with the door before he closes it. When he looks up at the house, he barely manages to keep his mouth closed. 

The house is so big that it could be half a mansion. Ramsay drove them through some gates, and now he sees the front yard - if he can even call it that. It's like a mini garden, with flowers spread into a sweeping, half-moon arrangement. The house itself is a glistening white, pure and free of any dirt whatsoever. He looks up at those huge, sparkling windows on the second floor and sees the cream colored drapes behind them. 

It's the complete opposite of Ramsay's house. 

He jumps as Ramsay grabs his hand and pulls him toward the door. Swallowing his apprehension, he follows his boyfriend, wondering for the first time how his father will react to him. 

Ramsay ignores the fancy, golden doorbell and instead raps impatiently on the door twice. Barely ten seconds pass before it opens, and a bowing servant shows them the way in. 

Theon feels awed at the sight of the simplicity of the house, because even though the walls are a blank white and the floor isn't even carpeted, everything is so orderly,  _neat_. Ramsay pinches down on his arm as he looks up, " _Focus_ ," he says, tilting his head towards the door on the right. 

He isn't sure what he should be focusing on until the door swings open. 

At first, he's just confused. The man striding towards him must be Ramsay's father, but his face is austere, devoid of the range of emotions that are always present on Ramsay's voice... though at a closer look, he's just as intense as Ramsay but in a quiet, subtle way. And the woman - he doesn't even want to know how much she weighs - seems even less alike either of them. There's a wide smile on her face, and she holds her arms out invitingly. Even when her eyes land on Theon, her smile falters only slightly.

"Ramsay!" she exclaims, walking faster. She and her husband come to a stop a few feet away from them. "It's so lovely to see you again! I haven't been able to talk to you since the wedding."

While she gushes on and on, Theon feels his eyes wandering to Ramsay's father.  _What was his name again_? he wonders, but he can't concentrate. The look his father is giving him is akin to how a butcher would eye a pig - emotionless, carefully calculating. He's judging him, definitely. Theon prays that he won't disapprove of him. 

"Father," Ramsay acknowledges, once the woman has stopped talking. 

"Ramsay."

"I'd like you to meet my  _boyfriend,_ Theon Greyjoy. Theon, this is Roose Bolton, and his wife, Walda Frey... now Walda Bolton."

Roose continues to coolly assess him, his eyes raking up and down, in the most clinical manner possible. "Balon Greyjoy's son?" he asks finally, his voice completely flat. Theon feels himself getting nervous, and only Ramsay's tight grip on his hand keeps him from shuddering. 

"That's his father," Ramsay says quickly. Too quickly.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe Mr. Theon can speak for himself," Roose responds, still completely emotionless. "A Greyjoy should be able to make his own introductions and not have to rely on my bastard son." Ramsay opens his mouth for a second, and Roose turns away. "Come."

"We wouldn't want getting dinner getting cold," Walda chimes in, that bright grin still plastered on her face. Theon makes to follow the two of them, but Ramsay pulls sharply on his hand. 

"One moment."

The moment Roose and his wife disappear into the dining room, Ramsay whirls on Theon, the placid look on his face falling away to reveal blind rage. "You  _fucking idiot,_ " he hisses, raising his hand as if to strike him. "I  _told you_ not to act stupid, but what do you go ahead and do? Make a fool out of me in front of my own father." He drops his hand, breathing heavily, as Theon struggles not to make a sound. "Don't make the same mistake again."

Theon follows him numbly. One thing rises above the rest, even above the incident he just witnessed.  _Not have to rely on my_ _bastard son._ He can't mean... surely he doesn't mean... He meant bastard as a sort of reprimand, not literally. 

Not literally?

He tries not to stare at the long, elegant table that's heavily laden with food. The sparkling chandelier casts light on all the dishes, and he suddenly feels starving. He hasn't eaten a full meal in forever.  _No, you just haven't stuffed yourself,_ he corrects himself. He never knew how much he needed a diet until Ramsay explained it to him; so lately, he's been eating his meals in smaller increments. Theon tries to keep his mouth closed when the smell of shepherd's pie drifts over to where he and Ramsay are standing. 

"Sit," Roose Bolton says, nodding at two chairs placed on opposite sides of the table. 

"We'd much rather sit together, Father," Ramsay says, and he doesn't sound angry at all. Just a calm, respectful manner that makes Walda smile a little. 

"You sat next to Domeric the last time, on his birthday," Roose says dispassionately, and Ramsay flushes a dark, splotchy red. Theon is wondering what he's implying when Ramsay smiles back, baring his teeth slightly. 

"There's no cake here, and Theon's unlikely to gorge himself to death," Ramsay replies coolly. 

"He touched one slice, and the next day he couldn't walk."

Theon listens to the quick exchange, feeling unease slip down his spine. Even Walda looks confused. Whatever they're talking about, he suspects that it's a private matter. Ramsay's expression is nothing like he's ever seen before. It's a feral, defiant look. 

"Why don't we all dig in?" Walda asks finally, when neither of the Bolton men say anything else. Ramsay nods tightly at her, and suddenly his smile flashes, and he's calm again. He even pulls the chair back for Theon before he sits down.

Theon eyes the shepherd's pie hungrily. He can almost taste the meat on his tongue. But he doesn't move until Ramsay finally picks up a plate on his left, and only then does he move towards his own dish. The room is utterly silent.

 "When did you two meet?" Walda finally asks, taking a hearty mouthful of some fruit salad. "I'm rather surprised, I only heard about you this morning, Th - ?"

"Theon," Ramsay supplies. When Roose raises an eyebrow at his son, Ramsay smiles again in that feral way. Theon wonders if he's the only one who can see Ramsay stabbing the chicken ferociously. 

"Well, Theon, you seem like a handsome young man," she goes on, pausing to eat another bite. "So, when did you two get together?"

"He just recently left the Starks. I took him in after I found out." Ramsay pauses deliberately as Roose looks at him expressionlessly. "He's been a really great help, and - "

"You took him in?" he repeats. 

Theon feels as if he's watching a car crash happen in slow motion. Every exchange between Ramsay and his father is only making his boyfriend more agitated. Even though he tries to hide it, Theon can see it in the way he grips his fork and gnaws at his cheek. Ramsay's fixed smile is the only thing that doesn't vanish - rather, it seems to grow wider, almost to the point where he's grinning manically. He's lost his appetite by this point, even though it's only been a few minutes; the shepherd's pie is suddenly dry and hard to swallow.

"Theon, do you have a job?" Roose asks him, turning his flat eyes on him. Theon swallows hurriedly and shakes his head, somehow losing his voice. "And you've been living with my son for how long, now?" 

"A year and a half, sir," he says quickly. Ramsay shoots him a look at that, though he doesn't know why. Then he mouths  _sir_ , and Theon stares at him in confusion as his smile nears a demonic glow. 

"I see."

"Father, I don't think you should be badgering my boyfriend like this," Ramsay says loudly, his cheeks still a hot red. Theon opens his mouth to say it's all right when he continues. "Why don't we talk about - "

Theon feels undeniable relief when the rest of the dinner goes more smoothly. The four of them make small talk, Ramsay bringing up the most recent soccer games and Roose talking about problems in the stock market. Walda simply smiles and makes comments about the food, while Theon slowly nibbles on some warm bread. 

Finally, Roose sets down his fork and knife. "I've noticed that you've finished, son. Why don't we bring the empty plates to the kitchen?"

Ramsay holds back a scowl. "Don't you have your servants - "

"Now."

Ramsay follows him reluctantly, but not before he touches Theon's shoulder gently and grants him a smile. Theon sits there awkwardly while Walda begins to prattle on about a baking show that she's been watching recently. Finally, he blurts out, "I'm going to go see if I can help them."

He doesn't wait for her reply before he grabs his mostly empty plate and hurries after Ramsay and Roose. Thankfully, he doesn't end up losing himself in the hallways and after hearing the latter's voice, he hurries towards the kitchen. He's about to enter when he hears Ramsay snarl, "-and don't fucking interfere, you know that - "

He comes to a halt as Roose replies, his voice still unperturbed, "You're letting an unemployed boy live in your house, doing nothing but clean up your messes. It's a waste of money and energy."

" _Don't_ you  _fucking_ interfere, he's  _mine,_ he belongs to me, I can do whatever I want with - "

"You forget who gave you the house you live in. You forget who pays for most of your bills. Everything you have is mine, boy, and you should take care to remember that. I didn't raise you to be completely unintelligent, you can work it out. You may enjoy whatever benefits I give you, but you need to remember that I am the supplier of your bank account - "

"He's not a bank account," Ramsay grits out, and Theon feels the words wash over him as he stands there in the shadows. "But he's  _mine_. I took him in, I spent my time with him, I've changed him - "

"I have no desire to hear of your methods of training the Greyjoy boy," Roose says flatly, and Theon grips the wall as he hears the final nail in the coffin.  _They_ are  _talking about me._ "It does not matter to me if you keep him for another year or make him leave immediately. However, it is painfully clear that you have no idea of the potential that you're wasting. He is Balon Greyjoy's son, and if his immediate heirs were to die, then - "

" _You don't tell me what to do with him!"_ Theon doesn't even have to guess what he looks like at this point. Ramsay has dropped the maniacal cheer, and now there's a razor thin restraint in his voice. He wants to get out of the hallway, and rush back to the dining room, and pretend he's never heard any of this, but he can't move. He just stands there, listening. "You can't control him, I can do whatever I please, and I don't give a damn if you want him to fulfill one of your plans - "

"I wonder how things would be different if Domeric were standing next to Greyjoy."

The simple statement renders Ramsay speechless, and Theon, suddenly worried, steps away quickly. There's a dead, ominous silence, as he begins to back away. 

"You wish I was him," says Ramsay finally, and his voice quivers in indignation or anger. "Well, _F_ _ather,_ it  _pains_ me to tell you that your only son is dead. That's what he is, isn't he?" Ramsay's voice shakes. "Because in your eyes, you still don't see me as your son."

"You're the one who won't accept that your mother was a common whore," his father replies, and Theon recoils from his tone: it's not angry, or even upset. He could be talking about the weather with that dispassionate, blank tone. "After my business trip I never saw her again. You were the product of rape, Ramsay. Don't tell me you're still harboring delusions about a whirlwind romance affair or whatever you told Myranda."

Another silence, icier than the last. Theon feels frozen in place, knowing that he's hearing something horribly personal that he should never have discovered. He tries to back away further, but he's rooted in place, and despite himself, he strains his ears to try to hear better. The seconds drag on, until inexorably, Roose states, in a tone that brooks no further argument: "You will find a use for Theon Greyjoy, and it will not be for your own personal pleasure or entertainment. You have a week, and I expect that things will change by then."

When Ramsay speaks, it sounds as if the words are causing him physical pain. He grinds them out slowly, with difficulty. "As... you... wish... Father."

There's a sound like a dish being slammed on the counter, and Theon knows it's time to go. He turns and practically runs back to the dining room, sliding back into his chair. Walda picks right up where she left off, talking cheerfully about a certain baker that makes the best pies. Inside him, his mind is reeling as he tries to process the entire conversation that he just heard. He doesn't dare turn around when Ramsay stalks into the room. 

"Hope we didn't keep you waiting," he says, and his voice is so strained that Theon almost winces. 

Walda notices that Theon's still gripping his dirty plate. "I thought you went to drop that off," she says, tilting her head slightly. "Did you get lost?'

Theon's stomach drops. Ramsay doesn't look at him, but suddenly he is stiff, and his eyes slowly lift to stare at Theon.  _He doesn't know, he doesn't know, he can't know, he can't guess,_ he chants desperately in his head.  _He doesn't know, he doesn't know -_

"Yeah," he says, his voice sounding strangled. "Yeah - I got lost."

"I'll show you the way next time," Ramsay says, and he doesn't stop looking at Theon.  _He doesn't know, I heard nothing, I didn't hear anything -_ "I think it's time for us to go."

"Okay, great," he says hurriedly. The next few minutes pass by in a blur as they say their goodbyes to Roose and Walda. Theon isn't sure if he's imagining the way Ramsay clenches his teeth when he looks at either of the adults. 

The ride back home is quiet. Ramsay pulls the car into the driveway without saying anything. Theon is almost sure that Ramsay believes that he heard nothing when Ramsay turns to face him. His eyes are shards of ice, fury gathered up and frozen over. Theon feels himself cringing away, and the seatbelt digs into him as he tries to look neutral. 

"Are you quite sure you didn't hear anything, pet?" He drawls out the words, his lazy tone belying the violence brewing on his face. Theon can't speak - his mouth is drier than the desert. He simply nods. Ramsay sneers, rage bleeding through his blank countenance. "Because we both know that I hate liars. You know what I do to liars, don't you?"

Theon wonders where his phone is now. 

He is frightened of what Ramsay will do if he finds out he lied, but he is terrified of how he will react if Theon admits he's heard so much. And not just the words about Ramsay's mother.  _He's mine, he belongs to me._ If Theon doesn't address the conversation, then maybe he'll forget about those words. Maybe he can convince himself that the possessiveness Ramsay has been exhibiting more and more is nothing more than just another way of showing how he cares. Maybe he can convince himself that he isn't petrified by  _both_ of the Boltons. 

"I told you, I got lost," he says, as steadily as he can. "I just went back and talked to your father's wife."

Ramsay stares at him, his arctic face showing no signs of warming. "You're stupid, pet, but I find it surprising that you would miss the kitchen fifty feet away from the dining room." Theon feels sick, wishing he didn't try some of the shepherd's pie. He feels like he's in an awful trap, and one step will trigger a landmine. "You  _know_ I don't like liars."

"I'm sorry, I promise, I - "

"Do you think I didn't fucking notice your shadow in the doorway?" Ramsay screams, and Theon flinches from him, as his boyfriend's eyes bulge and his teeth clench. "Do you think you're fucking clever, do you think you can trick me? Do you think that you're smarter than a bastard, now?" Theon looks behind him desperately at the door, and Ramsay notices. "You want to leave so damn bad, let's go," he says. " _Go!"_ he roars, when Theon is frozen. 

He stumbles out of the car, feeling horribly numb, as Ramsay jams the keys into the door and forces him in. "Basement," he snarls, and when Theon doesn't move, he roars, "Damn you, go to the basement, you  _ungrateful slut_."

He hurries for the door, his hands shaking. Fear surrounds him as he stumbles downstairs, feeling as if he's going to fall apart. Ramsay's hollow laugh echoes behind him. "I told you I don't like liars," he calls behind him. "You know what I do to liars."

Theon whispers his last sentence along with him. "I punish them - "  _You punish them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH it's done! I really hope you liked this one, I really tried to make it as intense as possible. (poor Theon..) 
> 
> Sorry if this chapter was a little too long for some of you. It's partially because finals are coming up for me, so I may not update for 6-7 days, and also I really wanted to get everything down onto this chapter. If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or a kudos! ^^ I would really appreciate it.


	6. ↳DYING EMBERS↲

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Give a little, get a lot_   
>  _That’s just how you are with love_   
>  _Give a little, get a lot_   
>  _Yeah, you may be good looking_   
>  _But you’re not a piece of art_
> 
> _Power and control_  
>  _I’m gonna make you fall_  
>  _Power and control_  
>  _I’m gonna make you fall_
> 
> _Women and men, we are the same_  
>  _But love will always be game_  
>  _We give and take a little more_  
>  _Eternal game of tug and war_  
>  __  
>  **-POWER AND CONTROL, by Marina and the Diamonds**  
> 

**↳DYING EMBERS↲**

He curls up in a corner, waiting. He doesn't dare make a sound. Behind him, Ramsay is humming, arranging things in order behind him. "We're going to play a game, pet," he calls merrily. Theon forces down a sob, but somehow he hears it anyway. "Why are you so upset? It's just a game, it doesn't mean anything. Come on, up you go, pet." The livid fury in his tone has faded away, but that only serves to frighten him more. 

He staggers to his feet, unsure if he should say anything. Ramsay looks up at him, smiling widely. "My friends should be over anytime soon," he informs him. "You see, unlike me, they aren't as forgiving towards liars. In fact, I'd say that they have no tolerance at all for them." His voice drops as he loosens his tie, combing back his unruly hair. "Now, we'll play the game." He tosses the collar that he's holding at Theon, who barely catches it in time. 

Theon stands there, holding the collar before Ramsay gives him a sharp glower. "I'll help you put it on," he snaps, and strides forward so quickly that Theon barely has time to open his mouth. Ramsay fists part of his shirt and yanks him towards him, sliding on the collar. "That's better. Where was I?" Theon tries to step backward, but Ramsay pulls him closer, staring down at his face. Not for the first time today, he wonders when Ramsay got so tall. 

He didn't seem so imposing when Theon first met him on the bridge. Rather, he seemed harmless enough, with wet, slicked back hair from the rain and a casual smile that was enough to encourage Theon to follow him. He didn't even seem strong; it was only after about a week that Ramsay took off his shirt in front of him and Theon was finally aware of the strength that he'd been concealing. Even after that first time when Ramsay took him against the park bench, he didn't quite realize how strong his boyfriend was. 

Now he knows. 

His breaths come out in short gasps as the collar digs deeper into his neck and Ramsay refuses to let him go. Theon feels himself visibly wilting as Ramsay presses closer to him, almost grinding into him, utterly hard. "You still have that look in your eyes," Ramsay comments, right before he forces their lips together, biting savagely at Theon's mouth. "You still look like Theon, pet, and I know there is some pathetic remnant of him inside you. You wouldn't dare lie to me. You wouldn't try to trick me, pet." Theon has no idea what he's talking about and only quivers as Ramsay looks down at him. "I know it's not you. That _wasn't_ you. It's not your fault, pet. You can't do this yourself, I'll help you weed him out, I'll help you stamp out those last bits of Theon Greyjoy."

 _But I am Theon Greyjoy,_ he wants to splutter. The look in Ramsay's eyes is enough to silence him, though. The demented spark in his eyes is back, as he presses himself closer to him. 

When he pushes Theon away, his jaw is sore and his neck throbs painfully. "I can hear them upstairs, the clumsy brutes," Ramsay comments, smoothing his shirt. "You stay here, pet. I'll welcome them down."

When he strolls back up, he leaves the door open, and Theon can see the light shining down, calling him like a beacon. All he has to do is rush up and race upstairs to his room. Or he could lock the basement door, it would be essentially the same thing. For a moment, he seriously considers it, before he slumps against the wall, defeated. He can't believe that he actually entertained the idea of running away. He almost laughs at his pitiful imagination. He never even considered running outside - how can he? This is his home, there's nowhere else for him to go. Briefly, he thinks of Robb's home - with Jeyne now right besides him, in the kitchen, in the backyard, in the bedroom..

Ramsay appears at the doorway while he's in the middle of mentally kicking himself. He scrambles upright again, seeing Ramsay's malevolent smile ringed by four exactly the same. Damon Dance-for-Me, the only fair-haired of his friends, looks over him, giving him that stare that makes him feel as if he's stripping him naked inside his head. Alyn and Skinner simply sneer at him. "You haven't said hello, yet, where are your manners, pet?" he crows. 

 "S-sorry," he splutters, straightening up as best he can. Damon's eyes are fixed firmly on his collar, and his fingers twitch as he resists the urge to tug at it. "H-hello, Damon, S-Skinner, Alyn."

"Stop that damned stuttering," Ramsay snaps. Before Theon can apologize again, he holds up his hands, evidently planning on moving on. "Here, take this," he says simply, offering the blindfold towards Theon. He desperately tries to ignore the way Skinner's gaze bores straight into him as he lunges forwards and takes the blindfold. "Put it on."

They wait as Theon fumbles with the blindfold for a moment, trying to tie it, before Ramsay rips it away. "Let me do it." His hands are gentle, but he's undeniably eager as he tightens it and gives Theon a pat on the shoulder. He stands there, feeling acutely vulnerable. The only light in the basement is from upstairs, and the blindfold's cloth is thick, dark. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers again, turning slightly, unsure of where Ramsay is. He gets a sharp blow to the head from the right in reward for his efforts, and he turns quickly there. "Ramsay, I'm sorry I lied to you."  _Say you're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry, and he won't do this. He'll understand. He won't -_

"I can't hear you, pet," Ramsay breathes, as someone on his left gives a small laugh. He resists the urge to pull at his blindfold. They must be circling around him, then. Someone jabs him in the back and he stumbles forwards, a soft cry leaving his mouth. "You're so  _stiff_. Let us loosen you up a little."

That's all the warning Theon gets before someone drives a fist into his back, and he almost falls to the ground, his hands scrabbling desperately for balance. He barely manages to get on his knees before someone grabs a handful of his hair, forcing his head up. "Ramsay - " he gets out, before the person pulls harshly. Tears threaten to stain the blindfold as he tightens his hands on the ground, trying to keep his composure. Trying to keep whatever dignity he pretended he had. 

"He still talks too much," someone comments right in front of him.  _Damon_. "How do you put up with this for so long?"

"Don't have a damn clue." Ramsay snorts. 

Theon's heart rate is dangerously high. " _Sorry_ ," he repeats, his mind completely blank. "Sorry - please, I'm sorry - I - "

The person gripping his hair lets go and pushes him forwards, so that he sprawls onto the ground. The blindfold is wet, but his mouth is completely dry. He doesn't dare rise, so instead he lies there, hearing the soft footsteps of Ramsay as he circles around him. "Say please one more time." Theon lets out a choked sob and tries to push himself up, but drops down immediately when Ramsay's foot slams into his right hand. Pain seizes his body as he splutters out apologies again and again. He can hear Damon's soft laughter, Alyn's loud cackling. 

He doesn't understand. Not about why Ramsay's punishing him - no, he understands that perfectly fine, even if he wishes it to be gone. What he doesn't get is why he had to invite his friends over.

"Do you have something to say, pet?"

Ramsay taps his foot, and Theon pushes himself up at an agonizingly slow pace. He resists the urge to cradle his bruised hand, and instead kneels at the direction of Ramsay's voice. Instead of another apology, what comes out is, "Why are  _they_ there?"

Silence. 

He forges on, squinting his blurry eyes despite the fact that he can't see a thing. "What are they here for? Why are you making them do this? Why - "

Someone kicks him from behind and he falls face forward again, feeling tears involuntarily form. This time, he doesn't get up as Damon says lightly, "Are you questioning us now?" 

"Ramsay always shares his toys," adds in Skinner, his sneer almost evident in his voice. "Do you think you're different from those bitches he brings home? Do you think you're special? Just because he hasn't set his dogs on you yet, do you think we can't fuck you into the dirt?"

Theon barely registers any of the other taunts that Ramsay's friends add in after that - his head throbs from what Skinner pointed out.  _He's brought home other girls?_

_But I've been living with him for over a year. He hasn't done anything - and he wouldn't -_

Suddenly, so slowly he barely registers it, everyone falls silent - and at the same time, Theon becomes aware of the fact that Ramsay hasn't said a single thing since Theon asked the question. Someone shifts on his right, before he hears Damon say in a surly tone, "What's that look for, eh, Rams?"

"Get out."

"Ramsay?"

He curses violently and throws something at Skinner, who muffles a protest. " _Get out._ When was the last time I had to repeat myself twice, boys?" 

They file out one by one as Theon lies there, shivering, knowing bruises must be forming over his body. Despite trying to keep his mind blank, he can't help but feel amazed at his boyfriend's reaction. The past few times when his friends had visited, he'd never kicked them out like that - and certainly not for Theon.  _What changed?_

He hears Ramsay stalk in a wide circle around him, pacing closer. "Don't think you were forgiven," he says sharply, and Theon feels the tiniest bit of hope inside of him wilt. "I haven't forgotten your insolence." Theon tries to nod, but when Ramsay kneels down besides him he forget how to breathe. "You were  _this_ close to playing the game." He draws his words out slowly, setting a light hand on the back of Theon's neck and pressing gently. 

"What changed?" he manages to whisper, and Ramsay simply laughs, the same laugh he used to give so freely before things began to shift. Ramsay begins to run his hands slowly through his hair, and for a few minutes, Theon remains there with his cheek pressed to the dirty ground and his whole body on a stiff, razor edge. 

Finally, Ramsay kneels down even closer, so that he can feel the heat radiating from him. Then, with his lips brushing oh so gently against his ear, he whispers, "Because you reminded me of one very important detail." The lightness fades from his voice until he's steely again, focused with a piercing intent. 

" _You're mine, Reek_."

He doesn't even get any time to wonder if he's misheard him - _Reek,_ after all, is nothing similar to  _Theon_ \- because Ramsay grabs him by the arms and pulls him up, dragging him back upstairs. He nearly slips several times, causing Ramsay to snort in frustration and rip his blindfold away. Theon blinks against the light as Ramsay pulls him further into the house, finally letting go of him once they're in the bedroom. 

As Theon stumbles to a stop and braces himself against the bed, Ramsay flicks on the lights and cocks his head at him. "I'm actually surprised you managed to ask a meaningful question," he muses, as Theon sits shakily onto the bed. He isn't even processing half of what Ramsay is saying - his mind is shouting in joy right now, saying, _no torture - no humiliation - no Damon - no Skinner - no Alyn._ "I was expecting for you to keep whimpering and saying the word  _please._ So - I suppose, in even the stupidest of creatures, there are sometimes flashes of intelligence."

This, Theon gets, and he stifles the indignation he feels at Ramsay calling him stupid, yet again. "I should  _thank you_ ," he practically purrs, and this is as much of a shock to Theon as one of his kicks. "You made me realize that what's mine is mine, and isn't for others to share." When he finally surges towards him, Theon barely manages to hide his recoil. 

"After all... Reek is Ramsay's and Ramsay is Reek's."

"Who's Reek?" Theon manages to rasp.

An inhuman glower appears on his boyfriend's face and Ramsay pushes a furious hand down at him. He falls backwards onto the bed as Ramsay glares down at him, his arms caging him in. " _Fucking stupid shit,_ " he rages, and Theon shrinks down to practically nothing as he backhands him twice on both sides of his face. " _Can't do anything right - YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING."_

His breathing slows as he seems to refocus, his rage dropping down a notch. Ramsay leans down and drapes himself over Theon, kissing him deeply, pulling at his lips until it stings and blood drips down his chin - while he lies there, too terrified to respond at all. "Remember your name," he coos, like a lullaby. Then harder - "Remember your name." Then harsher - " _Remember your name._ "

"R-Reek?"

He doesn't understand, he can't understand. "I'm - Reek?" He amends his statement hastily as he senses, rather than sees, Ramsay fisting the bedsheets under his hands in frustration. "I'm.. Reek." They're both silent as he manages to meet Ramsay's gaze, and it's a mixture of satisfaction, lust, and anger. "Ramsay, please - what do you mean - " he manages to get out, before Ramsay curses again. 

"If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up."

"Ramsay - "

"That's your  _name_ , pet, your  _name -_ Reek. Remember your name -  _remember your name_."

_So that's where it's been leading up to._

He remembers the past few months, where the  _Theon's_ faded away into  _pet_ and his voice - his identity - crumpled slowly under Ramsay's. And now he has a new name.  _Reek_. It's not even one that makes sense - it's not even one he can explain away.  _Pet_ stood for sweetheart, or some other endearment - at least he hoped it did. 

Reek, on the other hand... 

"Ramsay, I don't - " he stutters. "What do you mean, I don't understand - " 

Ramsay visibly forces himself not to slam his fist into Theon's face, and he swallows with an effort. "Stupid pet," he says, this time muttering to himself. "You're never going to learn, aren't you?" A jagged smile. "It won't do any good to repeat myself." A slow blink of his gray eyes. "I'll just have to fuck it into you."

Theon lurches upright by reflex, but Ramsay is already a step ahead of him. Without hesitating, he grabs Theon and forces him back down. After his initial reaction, Theon forces himself to lie still, but the damage is done. If Ramsay intended on being the slightest bit gentle with him before, he certainly won't now. 

It takes far longer than it usually does. He goes slow, pulling Theon's clothes away with deceptive care, when all he has to do is look up and see the smoldering fire that's threatening to break free and burn everything down. Ramsay even loosens his grip on him as he thrusts slowly into Theon, keeping his nails from digging too tightly into him. At one point, Theon tries to stare past Ramsay's face, up at the ceiling and past, to the sky, but Ramsay grabs his chin and forces him to maintain eye contact. 

If anyone were watching, they might say the two of them were making love. 

The moment Theon lets a soft moan slip from his lips, Ramsay's eyes light up. Immediately, he begins to thrust harder, deeper - his nails now leaving red shaped marks. "What's your name?" he pants out, working Theon to hardness as he drives him against the mattress. " _What's your name_?"

He takes too long to answer, and Ramsay lets go, gripping his throat instead, with one warm, burning hand and pressing hard. "It rhymes with freak," he hints, the laughter evident in his voice, pleased with thinking of the rhyme. 

Theon feels spots swimming at his vision as he weakly raises and drops his arms and manages to open his mouth, stuttering out: "My- my name is - " before his vision goes black. 

When he wakes, there is a throbbing pain that goes deep inside of him, and his mouth drips with Ramsay's come. The bitterness is enough to shock him fully awake and he jerks up, only to realize that his hands are tied with a coarse rope that rubs against his skin. Theon almost spits to the side before he meets Ramsay's flat eyes across the room and swallows, thinking twice.

His throat feels tight, closed up - his hips pulse with pain - and he aches everywhere. "You - you fucked me, didn't you?" Theon asks, trying not to act petulant. It's true that they have sex daily - but this has never happened before. The feeling of violation from being choked is magnified ten times over. 

"I waited for you," snaps Ramsay. "What was I supposed to do after you refused to get up after a minute?" He smirks, gesturing towards his lips. "You have some on the sides, by the way."

Theon strains against the ropes, trying to avoid his stare.  _He's still angry. He must be. Apologize - say sorry -_

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," he finally says, swallowing several times to try to get the taste out of his mouth.  _How did Ramsay even manage to fuck my mouth while I was unconscious?_

To his astonishment, Ramsay waves a hand dismissively. "The past is past - forgive, forget," he shrugs. "Why don't we, ah.. turn over a new leaf?" 

A nervous laugh escapes his mouth. "What are these.. restraints, then?"

"I thought you might feel tired, Reek, after round two." Ramsay jumps to his feet, dusts himself off, and then settles himself over Theon. "We both know how insatiable you can be - so those are to keep you from spending too much of your energy thrashing around."

_Round two?_

Ramsay presses himself against him, their foreheads touching. It would be comforting, almost, but for the fact that he's draped so tightly. "We could just go to sleep," he breathes, and it sounds so perfectly right - so perfectly wrong. The whole situation made his head spin. There is no explanation that he can think of for Ramsay to go from deciding to torture him to.. fucking him. And  _Reek_ \- why Reek? 

"Your head isn't meant for thinking, pet," Ramsay admonishes. "Close your eyes. Go to sleep."

He can barely breathe with Ramsay crushing him. And he knows he won't get anywhere with the rate he's going at. 

So he tries again.

"Please, Ramsay - I know you shouldn't have to say anything - " he manages to wheeze out. "But please, I just need to know - "

Ramsay moves, turning so that they're lying side by side. Theon can feel the blood drying underneath him, but he says nothing, waiting for Ramsay to speak. 

"You're not Theon Greyjoy, are you?" 

"W-what?"

"Don't stutter, pet. Well, are you?" Ramsay gazes up at the ceiling, his breathing steady and even. If Theon felt optimistic, he could have thought his boyfriend was about to fall asleep. 

Is that even the word for what they are now? In his past, in the foolish hopes of him and Robb getting together, he'd never imagined that Rob would forcefully brand him - or fuck him while he was unconscious - or leave him alone in the basement for days.  _But he's my boyfriend. He's all I've got._

"You don't want to be that sniveling, pathetic joke of a person, do you, pet? That weak Greyjoy with the false bravado that I found smoking and half high? The false Stark who chased after his 'brother' for years, only to realize finally that no one in his foster family cared for him? Is that who you want to be?" 

Ramsay tilts his head slightly, his eyes boring into Theon's side. He can't bring himself to meet his gaze. Suddenly, wildly, he has the miserable thought that he would rather be locked in the basement than being next to Ramsay in the warm, soft bed. Theon has to be doing something horrible, to have such a sense of  _wrongness_ inside - because despite the disgusting images Ramsay has painted in his mind, the idea of losing his name - of being renamed - bites and gnaws at him without faltering. 

"No."

" _That's why_ ," says Ramsay, and he goes back to looking up at the ceiling, a half smile on his face. "Who would you be, without Theon Greyjoy? Nothing. You should thank me, pet, for this. You wouldn't even exist without me."

Theon feels a shudder rush through him as Ramsay finds his hand and laces his fingers through his. But for now, his boyfriend seems content to stay quiet, ignoring any transgressions that he's committing. 

For hours, he lies there, neither of them falling asleep. But soon, exhaustion wins out, and not even the bitter taste in his mouth and the lingering fear is enough to pull him back. 

As he drifts away, someone in the distance is whispering.

" _Reek, Reek: it rhymes with weak."_

**↳END OF PART ONE: POWER AND CONTROL↲**

**↳COMING SOON - PART TWO: THE DEVIL WITHIN↲**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry for the long wait! (Over fifty kudos?! What?! THANK YOU!)
> 
> I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it just seemed really rushed in general for me. I tried a lot to finish it up nicely (I'm aiming for this story to be told in parts, so this is the end of the first.) It's going to get a lot darker in the next few chapters, and hopefully I'll be able to get those out soon. It's going to be pretty different compared to part one, I'd say. (Hint, hint: Jon Snow knows nothing - old characters and new, hello and goodbye!)
> 
> Thank you again! I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment or dropped a kudos - it motivates me a lot. ^^ _(And sometimes it's nice to see physical proof that the work you've spent hours on has been read over besides seeing the 'hit count' go up XD) ___
> 
> _**(To anyone curious, the title is derived from a song 'Power and Control,' by Marina and the Diamonds! Pretty obsessed with her right now, along with Melanie Martinez. XD Anybody else listen to those two??)**_  
> 


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